


911, what's your emergency?

by mamacarwood



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: 911 dispatcher, AU, M/M, Modern AU, also if you're here for walt i'm sorry because he's in it for like seven sentences, also minion toys and asses are involved, im really sorry, look brad is a dispatcher and ray is fucked up, that's okay though i still love him, there's not much more to the story, this is based off a fucking vine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4359854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamacarwood/pseuds/mamacarwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You got a minion toy,” Brad says slowly, “stuck....in your ass?”</p><p>or, Ray Person's relationships with minion toys and 911 dispatchers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	911, what's your emergency?

Being a 911 dispatcher isn’t Brad’s dream job. Dispatchers have to deal with death, and injury, and sorrow, all while trying to find a way to help the person on the other line. It’s tough work, but at the end of the day, Brad goes home knowing he’s helped save the lives of many people. That helps.

However, there are buttdials, and prank calls, and those few predicaments that are more comical than depressing. 

Namely the case of Ray Person.

“911, what’s your emergency?” Brad asks calmly in the way he’s been trained to, holding the phone to his ear. He gets ready to call any of the departments.

The person on the other end-- it sounds like a man-- mumbles something incoherent.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Brad says, straining to hear the man’s voice.

“I got a minion toy stuck in my ass,” the man repeats, a little louder this time.

Brad pauses. An image of a yellow cylindrical thing from some kid’s movie pops into his mind. 

“You got a minion toy,” Brad says slowly, “stuck....in your ass?”

“Yes, okay?!” the man on the other end wails. “We’ve already established that this is not my best moment!”

Brad tries very hard to laugh.

“Right,” he says, reclining back a bit in his chair. “Can I ask why?”

“I really don’t think that’s your job,” the man grumbles. “But jesus, why does anyone stick anything up their ass, dude?! I was in the mood!”

“Clearly,” Brad notes. “I just don’t see why a minion toy is what you went for.”

“Fuck off, you don’t know my life,” the man whines.

“Fine, fine. I’ll send a trauma vehicle to you. What’s your address?” Brad asks, but it’s taking all he’s got not to start laughing then and there. The man begrudgingly tells him.

“And name?” Brad asks, calling up a trauma vehicle as he spoke.

“Ray Person,” the man said. 

“Alright, Ray Person,” Brad says, sighing. “Help is on the way.”

“Thank fucking God,” Ray says, and the line goes dead.

&&&

Brad is just about to go on his lunch break when the phone rings.

“911, what’s your emergency?” he asks for the umpteenth time that day. The only response is a very prolonged groan.

“Hello? This is 911, do you have an emergency?” he repeats, as is standard. 

“God, I’m really fucked, aren’t I?” the person on the other line says. The voice sounds oddly familiar and it takes a moment, but when it clicks in Brad’s mind he has to keep from laughing again.

“Oh boy,” he sighs, rubbing his temple. “You’re the minion anal guy.”

“Jesus, is that what you call me?” Ray asks, groaning again. “I can’t believe you’re the one that’s picking up.”

“Yeah, well. This is my job. Anyways, you have an emergency, right?” Brad asks, chuckling a little.

“Uh…” Ray trails off. “You’re not gonna believe this.”

“Just tell me,” Brad huffs. “It can’t be that bad.”

“I got another minion toy stuck up my ass,” Ray admits after a bit of radio silence.

Brad actually does laugh at that. One of the firemen on duty gives him an odd look.

“Aw, c’mon!” Ray exclaims. “Can’t you be a little nicer?”

“So once wasn’t enough?” Brad asks once he’s figured out how to breathe again. “Where are you even getting these?”

“I dunno, they’re in the happy meals at McDonald’s,” Ray replies unhappily. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sending a trauma vehicle,” he says, calling out for one. He pauses. “And Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t do this again.”

“Right.”

&&&

Brad enjoys grocery shopping.

Grocery shopping, compared to Brad’s job, is calming and easy and almost therapeutic. There’s nobody screaming, or crying, or dying. No sirens are wailing. There’s just the quiet beeping of distant item scanners. 

Brad’s shifts often don’t end until the late evening, and because of that most of his shopping trips are made late just before the store is about to close. Everything tends to be quiet and calm during these times.

He picks up a bag of frozen peas to set in his cart, and almost drops them when he hears an outburst of some sort from a ways behind him.

“Jesus, dude, you said this place had lunchables!” someone exclaims. “Why would you lie to a brother like that?”

The voice is eerily familiar. However, Brad has been answering calls all day, so he decides he must just be tired and begins to roll his cart forward.

“I’m sorry, Ray! I thought they did. Oh well, Safeway probably does, right?” another voice answers.

And then Brad stops. Because the voice and the name suddenly come together and realization comes crashing into him. He turns around.

The guy is significantly shorter than he imagined.

“Hey,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “You’re minion anal guy.”

“Holy shit,” Ray’s friend says, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh my god,” Ray says, a mortified expression on his face. And then he furrows his eyebrows. “That means you’re the dispatcher dude that made fun of me.”

Ray’s friend starts laughing so hard that he has to hold on to the side of the frozen foods aisle.

“My name’s Brad, actually,” Brad says.

“Jesus shit,” Ray says, giving a low whistle. Brad isn’t sure what that means, and he isn’t sure he wants to either.

“Wait,” Ray’s friend says, getting his breath back. “First of all, it’s just your luck you’d run into this dude at the store, and second of all, minion anal guy?”

“Yeah, Walt, I got a minion toy stuck up my ass,” Ray says distractedly. 

“Twice,” Brad adds. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Ray groans, covering his face with his hands. “Of course you have to be hot.”

Brad starts laughing then, and Walt starts into a giggling fit.

“You know,” Brad says after a bit of silence, “911 isn’t the only number you can call me at.”

Ray looks up again, a little confused. “Whoa.”

Brad takes out a pen and grabs Ray’s hand, quickly scrawling his phone number on it. “Call me sometime. Just not if there’s a minion toy up your ass, okay?”

Ray grins, nodding his head. “Okay, yeah.”

&&&

Brad’s only been home for sixteen minutes when his phone rings.

“Hello?” he answers tentatively. Not using the 911 opening always feels a little odd after a long day.

“Hey,” the person on the other end says, and Brad grins. 

“You better not have a minion up your ass.”

**Author's Note:**

> listen i have no idea what that was it's kinda late and i'm in bradray hell so whatever but yeAH thanks for reading this


End file.
